Weeks had passed since the incident at the party, but it hardly stopped Matthew from thinking about it every once in awhile. Gilbert was slowly proving what he declared when they first started to become friends. Matthew was still conflicted. But while he tried to sort out his own jumbled up feelings, school work started piling up. So for the past week he was busy trying to keep up with essays and reading assignments. He slowly ignored the signs of a stuffed up nose or a coughing fit here or there. The forewarnings were ignored until Wednesday morning before the semi-finals.

A pounding head and scratchy throat greeted Matthew as he blearily opened his eyes to the sound of his alarm clock going off. His eyes were itchy and hurt even though only the soft morning light filled the room, creating normally a cozy atmosphere on a regular day. But today, Matthew groaned as he attempted to find his alarm clock through the blurred shapes next to him, knocking his glasses off the small bedside table.

"Of course." Matthew coughed a little to try and clear his scratchy throat.

Waking up with a stuffed nose and scratchy throat were nothing new to Matthew. On more than one occasion if the air was rather dry or a sudden change in the temperature outside would leave him with a pounding headache the next day. But this, the congested feeling leaving his head feeling fuzzy or like cotton balls filling his head, was something he did not want to deal with at the moment. Crawling out from the warmth of the blankets with a shiver, Matthew slowly made his way across the room and opened the door only to find Alfred poised as if he were about to knock.

"Al?" Matthew attempted to clear his throat again.

"Woah, dude, are you okay? You sound like shit." Alfred quickly brought their foreheads together, earning a grumble from Matthew as he tried to lean away.

"I'm fine. I just need to clear my throat with some water." Skirting around Alfred once he was let go, Matthew went straight for the kitchen, his head spinning a bit.

"You're not going to class today. Get some water and then head back to bed. I'll get some medicine for you." Matthew turned to see a frown on Alfred's face. He was being serious.

"I'm fi-"

"No you're not! You have a fever and need to stay in bed today. No buts." Alfred headed into the bathroom, but kept his sights on Matthew, who grabbed a cup and poured some water into it.

Maybe Alfred was right. Maybe he should stay in bed for one day. His life didn't depend on going to school today. Wait, he had to go to practice at least.

"Al, I need to go. I have practice. If I don't go, I won't be able to play in the next big game this weekend. You know how coach is about these sorts of things." Matthew drank the water in a hurry and attempted to get back to his room only to find his vision swimming before him. Slipping a little, Matthew found a way to balance himself by bracing himself on the wall.

"How can you skate if you can't even walk? I'm sure if you explain that you're sick he'll still let you play. I doubt he's that harsh." Alfred came back with a bottle of medicine, setting it on the counter before he helped Matthew stand up. "Come on, back into bed you go."

Matthew protested a bit more, but he followed the nudge Alfred gave him. There was just no arguing when it came to Alfred suddenly being mature and the responsible adult. Honestly, Matthew hated it when Alfred attempted to be the response adult, considering he only did it when it was convenient for him, instead of all the time. At least he knew he could count on Alfred when things were tough.

"I won't be home until late tonight, but I'll have Francis stop by with soup later. I'll stop by before my class to bring you some meds. Sound good?"

Matthew grumbled a response as he snuggled back under the covers, glad Alfred made him go back to bed. His eyes burned and as he felt them close. His body slowly relaxed. He drifted off when Alfred closed the door.

Matthew woke to a gentle nudge. Alfred had come back with medicine for him to take and some water. Obediently, Matthew took what was given to him, not even caring what it was so long as it cleared his fuzzy head. Downing the medication with water, Matthew set the half full glass on his bedside table.

"I ran into Gilbert so he'll be the one to bring you soup later instead of France. Apparently he overheard us talking and wanted to show his superior cooking skills. I'll be back later tonight. Try not to get out of bed unless you need to." Alfred's voice was low, the complete opposite of his usual loud personality.

Matthew nodded his head, regretting the movement. Feeling a little nauseous, he snuggled deeper into the covers, letting out a groan.

"Alright, I get it. Bye Mattie, feel better."

Another groan in acknowledge came from Matthew as the door shut and he was able to get some more sleep.

"Birdie?"

Matthew snuggled into the blankets. While the medicine made him slightly more tolerant to moving his head, he did not want to deal with anyone at the moment. The fuzzy feeling made it hard for him to even tell what time it was. had only a few minutes passed, or had several hours? The door slowly creaked open.

"There you are Birdie. It's about dinner time. Do you want some soup? It's chicken noodle." Matthew could see the blurred shape of Gilbert's head, but couldn't tell much from this distance. His voice was on the soft side, and the amount of concern was endearing. So it was dinner time. He had slept for a few hours and barely felt better.

Coughing to clear his throat, Matthew made an attempt to say something, but found his voice was mostly gone. He nodded his head to give Gilbert his approval. While Matthew might not have felt hungry he knew drinking plenty of fluids and eating at least a bit of soup was good for him. Besides, how could he pass up homemade chicken soup? Not being able to see Gilbert's face made it hard to tell what Gilbert was thinking, but with the concern laced in his voice, Matthew would humour Gilbert as best he could.

"Good. I'll bring you a bowl. Have you had medicine?"

"I took some before Alfred left." Matthew's voice was low and hoarse, even cracking at the end. He needed some water, but he knew it would take the weird thick taste in his mouth. It was from sleeping with his mouth open since his nose was stuffed up. If he was honest, he wanted to crawl into a whole and stay there for a while.

"Then you're probably ready for some more." Gilbert disappeared again.

He reappeared with a steaming bowl of soup, medicine, and a glass of water. Matthew had put on his glasses, now clearly able to see Gibert as he juggled the items around dangerously. Matthew smiled. A few months ago and he would only have Alfred taking care of him, but here was Gilbert, who even brought soup.

"This is homemade soup. When I heard you were sick I knew this would make you feel better. Don't tell Francis, but I'm pretty sure this is better than even his." Gilbert set the water on the bedside table along with the medicine. "Can you eat yourself or do you need help?"

Voice still weak, Matthew took the bowl. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for Gilbert to challenge him. He was sick, not broken. Gilbert nodded his head, sitting at the edge of Matthew's bed, watching. Wringing his hands, Gilbert seemed a little more restless than usual. Matthew blew on the soup, trying to figure out what would make him so nervous. Sipping the soup a little, Matthew found it hard to swallow at first and so was thankful most of the soup was actually broth. It went down a lot smoother after the first sip. Letting go of the spoon, he gave Gilbert a thumbs up.

"So you like it? Gut. I'm glad." Gilbert sighed in relief. "Alfred said he'd be late, do you want me to stay till he gets back?"

Matthew shook his head. He knew Gilbert would only get bored or even worse, get sick too. No, it was best if Gilbert left after Matthew finished eating. Matthew continued to eat, spoonful by spoonful, yet it seemed he had hardly made a dent when his stomach protested he was full. Holding out the bowl, Gilbert took it.

"Are you sure that's all you want to eat?" Gilbert bit his lower lip.

Matthew nodded, coughing a little. He pulled the covers closer when the coughing subsided. Gilbert reached for the glass of water and the medicine.

"Take this. I'll put this in the fridge for later if you get hungry and leave Alfred a note. He better not eat it. I hope you feel better Birdie." Gilbert stood up, putting the bowl on the bedside table. "Don't push it."

Gilbert handed Matthew the medicine and the water, waiting patiently for him to take it. Afterwards he leaned down, tucked Matthew in, who nodded absently, eyes already drooping. Gilbert gave Matthew a kiss on the forehead before picking up the bowl and glass. Matthew started to drift off to sleep again, warmth heating his cheeks.

"How you doing bro?" Alfred asked Matthew the next morning. Matthew was snuggled in a blanket on the couch, some cartoon was playing on the TV.

"A bit better. Not as fuzzy headed, but I probably shouldn't go to school." Matthew coughed a little. Alfred brought him a cup of steaming tea.

"Alright. I'll tell the coach for ya. Get better." Alfred ruffled his hair, a grin on his lips. Of course now that Matthew was not direly sick, Alfred had returned to being loud.

"Bye Al," Matthew said as he snuggled into the blankets, blowing on the tea.

Alfred waved bye, backpack on one shoulder and a coat in his free hand. Yet as Alfred opened the door, Matthew heard him talking with someone. Curious, Matthew got up, being careful to not get his feet tangled with his polar bear house slippers. Ludwig was at the door, seeming slightly troubled if the extra creases in his forehead were anything to go by.

"Oh, Mattie. Looks like Gil is sick, but Ludwig has a major test and can't watch him." Alfred leaned back on the doorframe to let Ludwig catch sight of Matthew.

"I knew he would get sick." Matthew sighed, knowing it was his fault. "Bring him up. I'm feeling better so I'll look after him."

"Are you sure?" Alfred's brows furrowed, but knew once Matthew's mind was made up it was done.

"Yeah. It's my fault he's sick eh?" The instant relief on Ludwig's face was all Matthew needed.

"He'll be up in a minute. Danke." Ludwig nodded his head with respect before heading back to his floor.

"Don't over do it," Alfred warned before slipping out the door to get to the bus stop.

Ludwig brought a very disorientated Gilbert into the apartment, putting him on the couch where Matthew was previously. With another rushed thanks, Ludwig dropped a bag of essentials next to the couch and was off to catch the bus to class with Alfred.

Matthew closed the door behind Ludwig and leaned against it for a moment. He had no idea how Gilbert acted while sick, hopefully he wasn't too much of a baby like Alfred normally was. Sipping his tea, Matthew slowly made his way to the couch to check on Gilbert. Ludwig told him Gilbert already took some meds, but the fever was pretty high.

"Guess I'll take care of you this time. Though I can't make home made soup, so I hope you'll be okay with just soup from a can." Matthew put a free hand against Gilbert's hand, using the back of his hand. It was pretty hot. The first thing to do was to break the fever.

"Birdie?" Gilbert shuffled under the blanket to lean closer to Matthew's hand.

"I'll be right back," Matthew said. Taking a few steps into the kitchen, he placed his empty mug into the sink. He then grabbed a towel, wet it, wrung it out, and then placed it over Gilbert's forehead. "There. Is that a bit better."

"…Stay." Gilbert reached out, holding Matthew's sleeve when he tried to move around the couch. He had planned on sit in the recliner to give Gilbert space on the couch.

"I'm just going to sit over there." Matthew pointed to the chair. Gilbert shook his head. "Where should I sit then?"

Gilbert shuffled under the blankets, groaning a little with the effort. Making room on the couch, he patted the space next to him. So Gilbert was the clingy type. Well, it didn't matter too much since Matthew was the one who infected Gilbert in the first place.

"We're both sick so it shouldn't matter how close we sit." Gilbert said, as if reading Matthew's mind. He spread the blanket between them. Then placed his head on Matthew's shoulder, who said nothing. Matthew leaned over to make sure Gilbert's shivering form was mostly covered by the blanket. He tried to hid the fond smile with his curls.

"Is that why you got sick? So you could stay with me?" Matthew whispered. A nod came from Gilbert, as he sniffled. "You're something else Gil."

"You know you love me." Gilbert coughed a little then snuggled closer.

"…"

Matthew focused his attention to the TV, feeling tired even though he wasn't as sick as the day before. Somehow this scene felt comfortable, peaceful even. At this point, he could hardly find a reason not to give Gilbert a chance at something more. While his own feelings were still not as strong, Matthew knew there was something more than just the feeling of friendship. But how did they cross that bridge? Should he wait for Gilbert to ask him again? Or should he take up the courage to say something to Gilbert instead? As he let the questions float around, he felt his eyes close and his head heavy, the noise of the TV went into the background.

"Maybe it is because I'm starting to love you." Matthew whispered as he let his head rest against Gilbert's. He hoped Gilbert was either asleep to notice, or too feverish to remember.